


It's Cold Outside

by JessaLRynn



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessaLRynn/pseuds/JessaLRynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was hardly a rare conversation, the philosophical ramifications of a happy little tune, after all... It had become habit, as had discussing the details of television plot-devices...</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> For jabberwocky's (OV's) birthday - because the world survived it! :-D Love you!
> 
> There may YET be another chapter, you never know.

"Next time we fix a weather satellite, let's set it to August!" Rose, her sense of humor still very much intact, had to cry this over the raging gale and the collar of the Doctor's long brown coat.

"Next time we fix a weather satellite, they can do it themselves," the Doctor answered on a grumble. "Bloody ungrateful, tampering, unnatural, simple-minded…"

"Be nice," Rose chided, almost gleefully, though her teeth were chattering fiercely. She pulled her foot out of a sudden drift, and her trainer stayed behind. "Uh oh," was all she said, though.

The Doctor dove back after Rose's shoe, and helped her put it on. If his hands lingered overly long on her bare calf, it was only to check for frostbite. Really. Rose gave him a fond, almost patronizing look as he stood, and the Doctor gritted his teeth. She was high above him, he knew that, but it was rare to be reminded by her smile.

He'd honestly thought about leaving the Caratasees to their own devices, though. Some morons among them had decided to take control of the planetary weather, and of course that bright idea had led to how nice it would be if it was never winter, which had, of course, led to famine, insects, and plague. He would have had no problem whatever with helping save everyone before they destroyed themselves, except that the stupid people who had started this were still in charge, still wondering why everyone thought it had gone wrong, and still planning to do something incredibly idiotic for an encore.

It wasn't that he thought anybody deserved this fate, it was simply that the Time Lord already had one planet of lunatics to look after. Plus, if no one did anything about the underlying cause — daft sods in powerful positions in this case — then there was no good helping them this week only to have them make it worse next week. Rose, however, had found a reason - and Vath, the leader of a group of frantic, mild-mannered scientists, struggling to keep the events from killing everybody.

So they'd saved the world by destroying the control satellites, and set Vath up as a reluctant (and therefore highly capable) new leader. The only thing left was to escape back to the TARDIS, which was made far more problematic by the simple fact that the Doctor's own solution had set off a ferocious winter storm. He'd known this would happen; he had no right to be upset. Except that he was. He was the one who'd got the timing wrong, and Rose was freezing, and the TARDIS was still hours away.

"Hope this isn't something out of a horror novel," Rose said, very close to his ear.

The Doctor, startled from his reverie, blinked, and then tucked his hand, with Rose's icy one in it, into his pocket. "Why?" he said.

"There's lights on there," she said, pointing. "Let's go knock, and hope it's not Frankenstein's castle."

"Be more likely to be Frankenfurter's in this place," the Doctor complained.

"'Probably a hunting lodge for rich weirdoes,'" she quoted with a shrug.

The Doctor smiled, grateful that she wasn't holding any of this against him (he'd promised they'd have plenty of time to get to the TARDIS, after all), and started to feel a little better. _"In the velvet darkness of the blackest night…"_

Rose giggled, and that was enough.

*?*

"'Kay, you can stop now," Rose said, apparently talking to the sky outside the window. "It's up to our knees out there."

Forcing the slightly warped door to close without dragging in a bucket of snow with them, the Doctor shook his head. "It's a wonder you didn't freeze out there," he apologized.

"You leant me your coat," she said, and then she grinned, and the Doctor felt warmer already. "Sounds like that Christmas song."

He frowned as he checked around for what they had going for them. The one-room cabin was theirs for the next three days, rented as legitimately as anything was with the psychic paper, from a plump and cheery little Caratasee woman who offered them a discount since none of the little rentals had any power in the face of the storm. He only paused in his itemization when he realized Rose was singing.

Her voice was somehow always a surprise. It was good, dark and bright at once, with a sultry tone that was older, somehow, than the girl who used it as if wary of its power. Rose had no idea how much the Doctor loved to listen to her, because she would stop singing whenever she noticed him listening. He decided to be very quiet this time, and just wait.

"You're missing your lines," Rose she said, as she trailed off. Then she grinned and shrugged, looking around, and considering their surroundings. "This isn't much better," she pointed out, noting the frozen water standing in the cabin's little sink.

The Doctor nodded and grabbed a blanket from the bed to wrap around her. "So what're my lines?" he said

"You've never heard this?" Rose asked, astonished

"I heard Crosby sing it once or twice," he allowed, "but what does leaving without freezing have to do with Christmas, anyway?"

"I dunno," Rose admitted. She considered the well-laid logs in the little fireplace with something quite like relief. "They just always play it then." She shrugged. "Humans, we're like that. It's completely dubious anyway." Her eyes lit up when she discovered a large basket of twigs next to the tool set at the hearth. The Doctor joined her as she began picking pieces from it with one hand, still clutching at her layers with the other.

"How so?" the Doctor asked. He took the handy kindling from Rose and piled it precisely around the neatly stacked wood. This was hardly a rare conversation, the philosophical ramifications of a happy little tune, after all. Rose had learned about "Ring Around the Rosie" only a few days after her arrival on the TARDIS, all those months back. It had become habit, as had discussing the details of television plot-devices. He patted at his pockets, but couldn't find his screwdriver anywhere.

"Well, it's mostly okay," she said. She reached over and took a large fire place match from a decorative box of them, but her frozen little fingers fumbled the slender stick. It rolled away and Rose considered it with consternation.

The Doctor opened the bundle of Rose, blanket, and coat and popped the screwdriver out of his inside pocket while Rose yelped and laughed about the cold. "Mostly okay?" the Doctor prompted. He could stay on twenty or so topics at once, Rose not so much.

"Well, there's the bit about her saying no all the time and him arguing." The Doctor aimed the screwdriver at the firewood while Rose talked. "Then, of course, there's the thing about what he's put in her drink."

"Drink!" he realized, just as the kindling started smoking. Rose started to laugh again. The Doctor grinned at her. "You're having too much fun at my expense, Miss Tyler," he said.

"Probably," she admitted, and gave him that smile, the one that melted him to his toes, with her tongue peaking out at the edge. "What about a drink?"

"Look in my coat pocket." She stuck her hand in his left pocket. "No, the other one," he corrected. Her hand went into the right one, and the Doctor grinned as she flinched. The nature of his coat pockets often put adorably baffled expressions on Rose's face. The fire caught at last, and the Doctor blew on the cheery little blaze, gently, glad it had waited until he got to see Rose's face.

The Doctor fiddled with the kindling, making sure it was in the optimum position. "What'm I looking for?" She dug deeper. "You got a wood stove in here or something?"

He shrugged and scratched at the back of his neck. "Might do, I guess," he admitted. "Probably not. But I do have…"

Rose pulled out a small, shiny bottle with ornate circular markings. "A flask?" she asked, giving it a bit of a shake. "I knew you kept water bottles, but I thought you said some planets actually had laws against it…"

"They do," he admitted. "But it's hard to find things in my pockets if I don't want you to do." He tugged at his ear as he considered. "Actually, it's hard to find things in my pockets if I do want you to do. Not sure how you did it, so please don't tell me."

She gave him that mischief grin again, and a small shrug. "Well, what's in this drink?"

"It's strong, Rose, I'll warn you now. It's not too strong for a human, but it's as strong as you can handle. You'll be drunk, and fast. But it'll make you feel warmer 'til we actually get some heat in here."

Rose considered the flask, then the Doctor. " _Well, maybe just a little drink more,_ " she caroled lightly.

He chuckled. " _Put some records on while I pour,_ " he chimed back.

Rose, laughing merrily, instead went hunting for glasses.

*?*

"You know how this always turns out in stories," Rose said. She wobbled into the Doctor, her head lolling onto his shoulder.

He grinned. She'd been babbling incessantly for over an hour now, and he'd only let her have a shot's worth of the strong alien brandy. "No, I don't," he said. "I don't read those kinds of stories. Get into the bed."

"You can't fool me, Mister." She looked delightfully puzzled. "Doctor Mister." Apparently, that didn't work for her either, because she pouted and the Doctor wanted to kiss her pouty little mouth, as she held it far too close to him. "Mister Doctor Mister, sir," she pronounced, and flopped her hand up as if to wave the words away. She laughed, and hugged his arm. "Mine," she decided, and that was nice.

"Bed, Rose," the Doctor said. "Conserve what body heat we can manage."

"You're taking advantage of…" She considered. "No, you're not. I'm taking advantage of." She nodded. "That's it. No. Advantage isn't the word, is it? Is advantage a word? What were you saying?"

"You were agreeing to get into the bed with me," he suggested, trying not to grin at how very much fun he was having with this one.

"Are we having sex?" she asked, and the whole world might as well have exploded.

"What?" the Doctor barely managed to croak out.

Rose took her shirt off and frowned at him blearily, wobbling decidedly as she seemed to have trouble focusing on him. "That's what happens in these stories, like I said."

"We'll think about that later," he decided, now that he could sort of think again. The most important thing was to get her under the covers where he couldn't ogle her, and where she would warm up. Her fingers were cold, and the Doctor was not used to that, not ever.

She grinned. "That's Mills and Boone novels for you," she said. "Always getting it wrong." She tumbled onto the bed and rolled over, wriggling her way out of her shorts

The Doctor was in intense pain, mostly from biting his lip to keep the groan inside him. Though his trousers could've contributed once Rose put her bum in the air as she tried to find her way under the blanket. "What were you talking about?" he asked, because he wasn't even sure he knew what thinking was anymore, and he had to focus on something. It was not right to even think about taking advantage of her current drunken state.

"See, Mum had this book…" That cleared the Doctor's head right up. What Jackie Tyler would do to him… "And this bloke and this girl who hardly like each other half the time, though anyone can see it's just sexual tension… Miss Andrews stole it from me, and Mum did her nut, but she couldn’t go get it back, apparently, are you coming to bed?"

"Who is Miss Andrews?" the Doctor asked, and toed off his trainers. He draped his coat over Rose, and threw the pinstriped suit jacket over one of the two chairs by the fireplace

"Am I gonna have a hangover?" Rose asked, apropos of not much.

"Don't think so, nice thing about 51st century liquor, why?"

"Think that was Miss Andrews' problem. Either that or she was just a bitch. Dunno. Shireen said she didn't get shagged enough, but then Shireen said that about everyone, although she might've been right."

The Doctor gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed. Now that Rose wasn’t talking about sex with him, specifically, he thought he might be safe enough to get under the covers and keep her warm. After all, if she was cold enough that his lower body temperature could warm her up, she was still too cold.

"You forgot your trousers," Rose babbled. "You have to have trousers off, too, or it isn't as naughty."

She's out of her mind drunk, the Doctor reminded himself, sternly. "Time Lord," he decided. "This is as naughty as I get." He slipped under the covers.

"Tell me about it," Rose agreed. "D'you know how hard it is on a girl's ego when the bloke she can't stop drooling over suggests she put on a bin bag instead of a mini-skirt? Have you ever noticed how rude you are when you're nervous?"

"Yes, and apparently so have you," the Doctor said.

"I don't mean to come on to you," she said sincerely. "I just can't help it." She hiccupped, and the Doctor tugged her close, rubbing at her back. Her skin was still too cold for his liking, but she was warming up nicely as the cheery little fire crackled away in the hearth.

"It's all right, Rose. Humans flirt even when they're not interested."

"Yeah, and try to stop when you are interested," she grumbled. "Just try."

"I do try," he said, softly, sincerely. He kissed the top of her head, taking a long, longing sniff of her hair, the clean scents of moonlight and ice teasing his sensitive nose.

"Hey, don't sniff me," Rose complained. She giggled then, and thumped him on the chest. "It's all sniffing things and licking things with you, and I s'pose if you gotta do one or the other, you could lick me instead."

"Don't tempt me," the Doctor begged.

Rose, somehow slightly sobered by the tone of his voice, looked up at him, her eyes wide and huge, but focused this time. "Doctor?" she whispered after a long moment of just looking deeply into his eyes, "do you think we could…"

He smiled, and it hurt. "If you still want to in the morning," he said, because he was pretty sure she wouldn't even remember.

"I want to every day," she admitted softly, "so it won't be anything new." Then she kissed him.

It was warm and wet and tasted of brandy, the chill of her lips giving way to the heat of her mouth as the Doctor couldn't resist stealing a taste when she so innocently started it. Her lips trembled beneath his assault, but her hands weren't nervous at all, wandering idly over his undershirt and his neck, tugging at his hair. He pulled her closer, pausing only to steal a quick gulp of air, and then diving back in to her, determined to learn her as their bodies molded like melting in the sudden heat

She whimpered and he moaned when their hips aligned perfectly, when he could press against her with the erection her touch had given him. She clawed at his hip, and nipped at his lips, and the Doctor turned them so that Rose was beneath him, so that his body angled just right while she cradled him and rocked hard against him.

The hungry, longing, breathy sound that escaped her along with his name startled the Doctor back to his senses. He rested his forehead against Rose's, smiling and sighing and aching for her in so many ways. "Get some rest, love," he suggested tenderly. "It'll all be fine in the morning."

"I don't want to," she pouted, so adorable with her woozy eyes and her kiss-swollen lips that the Doctor started to wonder if he could sober her up. "I wanna go back to…" She yawned hugely. "Kissing." And then she was asleep.

The Time Lord sighed and considered ducking his head out in the blizzard.


End file.
